


just a little more

by airebellah



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom!Peter, Choking, Coercion, Dark!Tony, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Denial, Forced Ejaculation, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Not A Happy Ending, Rape, Threats, Tony is seriously creepy in this, Unreliable Narrator, top!tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 01:53:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15808929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airebellah/pseuds/airebellah
Summary: Tony wondered if he had in fact drank himself into a stupor back at the tower, and was actually dreaming. His pulse quickened as he took in the boy’s small, sleeping form. Peter was on his stomach, limbs splayed out in every direction, legs tangled in his comforter and face pressed into his pillow. He wore an oversized shirt, which had bunched up under his chest to reveal a tight stomach, a narrow waist, and -- were those Iron Man-themed boxers?There was a bottle of lotion tipped over on the floor along with a pile of crumpled up tissues, and sitting on the bed beside Peter’s sweet, innocent face was a magazine with none other than Tony, in a fine three-piece suit, gracing the cover.





	just a little more

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, please read the tags and heed the archive warnings.

There was something inherently creepy about hovering outside a fifteen year-old’s window in the middle of the night, especially as he retracted his suit. But no one had to know, Tony told himself as he peered through the glass, as long as he got inside quickly. And so he lifted the pane, silently scolding the careless boy for leaving it unlocked, even though he was now thankful for the covert entry.

He carefully shut the window once more against the busy sounds of late-night Queens. His eyes adjusted to make out a lump-shaped form spread out on the bottom bunk to his right, and a desk in front of him, but it wasn’t enough. He gingerly stepped toward the desk, fumbling around until he found a lamp to flick on. Now as he looked around the room, he could see the disorganized mess of a typical, harried teen. Sighing in disapproval, he stooped down to salvage Peter’s multi-million dollar suit discarded on the floor. Of course his aunt May now knew the boy’s alter-ego, but that was no excuse to be so reckless.

He draped it on the back of Peter’s desk chair, seemingly the only somewhat acceptable spot in the entire room. Then his eyes cast back to Peter’s bed, at last.

Tony wondered if he had in fact drank himself into a stupor back at the tower, and was actually dreaming. His pulse quickened as he took in the boy’s small, sleeping form. Peter was on his stomach, limbs splayed out in every direction, legs tangled in his comforter and face pressed into his pillow. He wore an oversized shirt, which had bunched up under his chest to reveal a tight stomach, a narrow waist, and -- were those Iron Man-themed boxers?

There was a bottle of lotion tipped over on the floor along with a pile of crumpled up tissues, and sitting on the bed beside Peter’s sweet, innocent face was a magazine with none other than Tony, in a fine three-piece suit, gracing the cover.

Grinning, he picked up the mag and examined the picture. He couldn’t recall the shoot, but it must have been in the past few years, given the slightly unnatural (and incredibly insulting) photoshopping of his crow’s feet and smile lines. But it was certainly well used; as he thumbed through, he noticed the pages were crumpled and slick from being gripped in a lotion-covered hand. There was one section, in particular, that was smudged with a few drops of dried come: a two-page spread of Tony stretched out along his side on a four-poster bed, propped up on one elbow. The jacket and waistcoat from the cover were both discarded, and his shirt unbuttoned to his navel.

Tony pictured Peter sneaking home from a late-night patrol, stumbling as he tugged his suit onto the floor. He had probably been wearing the Iron Man boxers all day, and grabbed the first shirt he saw as he crawled into bed. Pulled out his secret supplies from under the bed (Tony chuckled; there was no way May hadn’t seen them before). His throat dried up as he imagined Peter pumping his hand with lotion and shoving it under his boxer shorts. He would have no ceremony about it; maybe he would rub at his nipples, but unlikely with that oversized shirt. Tony had a feeling he was too inexperienced, or perhaps too shy, to even consider touching himself in other places.

No, Tony was quite sure the boy just stared at the magazine as he pumped into his palm, perhaps throwing a hand over his mouth to stifle his cries.

Tony was moving toward the bed without a second thought. _Just want to check…_ he told himself as he leaned over the boy. He wondered if Peter had thought to pull his cock out before he came, or if he just spilled into his shorts. Careless and short-sighted, just like Tony knew the boy was in almost everything else.

He gripped the cotton fabric in his hands. Upon closer inspection, the colours were faded and dull. The fabric was stretched thin. _How long has he had these?_ Tony wondered. _Since he was - younger?_

As he tugged, the boxers slid down without any give; the waistband was too stretched to protest. Tony’s original mission was waylaid as the pale, smooth skin of Peter’s ass was revealed. He reached out, fingertips tracing the boy’s round cheek. He was filled with the sudden urge to sink his teeth into it, feel that tender flesh fill his mouth. But here he showed some restraint, eyes flicking up to the boy’s face.

Peter was sound asleep.

On a whim, he spread apart his young mentoree’s asscheeks. He had to bite his tongue against a moan as he saw Peter’s little hole smeared with lotion.

“Baby, we need to get you some proper lube,” Tony whispered. His pinkie stretched out, gently circling. Peter’s muscles fluttered teasingly, and next thing Tony knew, his finger was sinking in. He wondered if Peter truly was awake, merely feigning sleep, as the boy’s hips shifted slightly. But his expression had not changed.

Tony’s hands flew to his hips, unbuckling his belt and undoing his slacks. _Just a little taste,_ he silently reassured as he knelt over the boy’s prone form. He pulled out his cock, already leaking precome.

“Look what you do to me, Pete,” he groaned. He rubbed his tip against the boy’s ass, the backs of his thighs, up against his hole. Again, there was the slightest shift of Peter’s hips.

There was no need for any more lotion -- in fact, he was quite sure it would do more damage than good, with all those chemicals. Surely his precome was enough, give how easily his pinkie had slipped in before. Tony lined himself up. _Just the tip, just the tip,_ he chanted as he pressed down.

Peter’s lips smacked together noisily. He grunted, hand raising from the bed to rub against his cheek before he smothered his face into the pillow.

Tony only realized he had been holding his breath when the boy went still once more. He let it out, heart beating wildly against the strain.

Innocent little Peter Parker must have been quite the little cockslut, after all. Tony just kept sinking in deeper and deeper, with barely any force required on his part. Soon enough his abdomen was pressed against Peter’s cool back.

He gave a few cautious thrusts. Peter’s fingers tightened against the sheets, but otherwise he gave no response. Tony slowly eased himself down onto his elbows. His hands covered Peter’s, pressing them into the mattress.

He thrust again.

And again.

And again.

By now Peter was letting out little, pathetic noises. His legs began to shift and Tony made sure to press down the boy’s thighs with the back of his knees. His arms tried to pull away from Tony’s tightening grip, but it was half-hearted at best. There was no way he was still asleep; Tony was sure of it.

One thrust in particular, a hurried snap of his hips, had Peter groaning. The boy shook his head, as if clearing a fog from his mind. “Wha-?” he mumbled sleepily.

“Shh, shh,” Tony assured immediately, leaning down to cover the side of Peter’s face in kisses. “It’s me.”

Tony could feel the force behind the boy’s muscles as his entire body clenched. Of course, it also meant he clenched around Tony’s cock; and that had a low, ragged moan pulled from Tony’s throat.

“What?” Peter’s voice broke, from fatigue.

Tony let his pace falter into something more slow and caring. “It’s okay, it’s me, it’s Tony.”

“W-what’re you, why-” He sounded delicious, all pitched and tremulous.

“Shh,” Tony whispered, releasing one of Peter’s hands to cover the boy’s mouth. “I know you want me. It’s okay, Pete.”

It was like Peter had never awoken, save for the new tightness across the boy’s limbs. He did not move, did not speak, as Tony continued to pound into him. But the boy was too delicious for his own good; Tony began to push harder and faster. The bunk above them started to shake, and the frame knocked lightly against the wall.

Peter began to groan. His breathing was almost louder than the sound of smacking flesh as his nostrils flared, struggling to inhale enough oxygen.

“Fuck, I wish I could see your face right now,” Tony grunted. His fingers dug into the boy’s cheek. His hold grew slippery with tears.

“Why didn’t you just ask me, Pete?” he cajoled. “Why fuck yourself on those tiny fingers when you can have the real thing?”

He released his hand from Peter’s mouth, expecting an answer. Instead he got a wet, wrecked whimper. “It’s okay, I’m not mad,” he assured as his fingers wrapped around the boy’s throat. Not hard; just enough to smother those irresistible little noises.

“Mr. Stark,” he managed to rasp. “P-please, st-sto-”

Tony’s grip tightened, leaving Peter wheezing for breath. “Hush, my beautiful boy. I’m almost done with you. I’m going to make you come first.”

He pried his other hand from where it had grown rather sweating, holding down Peter’s wrist. He followed his original path at last, into the front of Peter’s boxers. As his hand wrapped around the boy’s little, straining cock, he grinned into Peter’s sweaty hair. Ah, yes; there was dried come sticking to his hand, mingled with fresh, leaking precome.

It took a few short pumps until the boy was spilling his load once more. But Tony wouldn’t tease him for it; he was young, and inexperienced. It was only natural.

“I’m going to wreck this tight little hole,” Tony promised. Peter’s frame was wracked with shudders, likely overstimulated as Tony continued to pound into him. “Gonna fill you up.”

He forgot to check the strength of his hand on Peter’s throat as he came. It was only a few seconds, at most, before the pressure eased. But Peter choked for breath, rather loudly, and Tony fisted the boy’s curls and forced his face into the pillow as the man continued to ride out his orgasm.

He pulled out and tugged Peter over when suddenly Peter’s closed fist swung at him. Tony chuckled as he easily pinned the panting boy onto his back. The boy didn’t even try to apply any pressure with those arms that Tony had seen hold together a ferry.

“Why?” Peter sobbed. His voice was deliciously raspy and hoarse. “Why?”

Tony’s breath was stolen by Peter’s beauty in that moment. His eyes were clenched shut, tears streaming down his rosy cheeks. His dark, thick lashes clung together. Hair matted against his forehead, mouth bruised with a slight smear of blood against the bottom lip.

“Peter, quiet,” Tony murmured as the boy began to sob, whole body shaking with each heaving breath. “We wouldn’t want May waking up, would we?”

That had the boy freezing, the next cry hitching harmlessly in his throat. Tony wrapped his arms around the boy’s slender frame, pulling him into a hug. Peter’s little fists clenched against the fabric of his shirt. Tony rubbed his back as his shuddered gasping gradually diminished to shallow breaths with sporadic hiccups.

“Why?” he repeated once more. His voice was muffled against Tony’s chest.

“No one has to know,” Tony said instead. “This can stay just between us. We wouldn’t want to stress May, right? I know the grant money has really helped you guys out. She no longer has to work all that overtime just to make ends meet. It’s better this way, isn’t it?”

He let the boy mull over it for a few minutes, gently carding a card through his hair. Eventually, he received a shaky nod.

After all, Peter had always been such a bright, intelligent boy.

**Author's Note:**

> [Visit me on tumblr for more Starker, to submit requests, and see more of my Starker ficlets.](http://airebellah.tumblr.com)


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